


Deprivation

by FunkyBetsy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Head Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28478565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyBetsy/pseuds/FunkyBetsy
Summary: Matt turns up outside Foggy's apartment late one night. Told through Foggy's point of view.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Deprivation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Longdaysjourney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longdaysjourney/gifts).



The sun was warm on Foggy’s face and there was a gentle breeze blowing off the water. He was relaxed in a way he hadn’t been in months. Sighing, he tipped his head back onto his beach chair. What had he been so stressed about anyway? Life was good, life was peaceful. Well, except for that awful banging going on at the hotel behind him. What were they doing in there? Jack hammering up the basement? Fracking? He tried to ignore it, focusing on the warmth and the breeze and the view, and goddammit it just wasn’t letting up.  
In fact, it was getting louder, and now someone was calling his name…

Foggy Nelson opened his eyes to his dark apartment. He was alone in bed, Marci off at a conference. It was raining, and there was someone knocking on his window, calling his name. It took him a minute to realize what was happening and who was at his window. Cursing, he jumped out of bed and ran across the room to get the window open.

“Dammit, Matt! What the hell are you doing here? It’s” he broke off to look at the clock across the room, “just after midnight! Wait, is that blood? Are you BLEEDING?” He tried not to be too alarmed. After all, in the two years of knowing that his best friend was some kind of superhero, he’d found him shot, stabbed, bleeding, and in all kinds of other situations and in the end Matt had always turned out to be just fine. 

That didn’t stop his heart rate from accelerating or the adrenaline from rushing through his body and making his fingers start to tingle. 

“It’s nothing,” Matt insisted, climbing through the window, dripping water and blood over Foggy’s clean floors. He moved past Foggy deeper into the apartment, swaying as he walked. Foggy chased after him, still trying to process what was happening. He switched on a small lamp to get a little light in the room, and winced when he saw the water and blood mingling on the floor. Foggy grabbed the first towel he saw on the nearby stove and tried not to wince again when he realized it was one of the decorative ones that Marci had brought home and insisted he not actually use.

Matt took the towel, but didn’t seem to know what to do with it. In fact, Foggy thought squinting at him in the half-light, Matt didn’t seem to be firing on all cylinders just then. He decided to act and took his friend’s arm, leading him toward the living room. It was like trying to lead a wooden mannequin. All stiff and jerky. He pulled back to try to get a better look at him, but decided he’d better wait until they were sitting down. 

“Sit,” Foggy told him sternly, parking Matt on the couch. He pried off his friend’s helmet (Headpiece? Horn hat? What the hell was that thing called, anyway, he mused) and tried not to panic as more blood trickled down from Matt’s hairline.

“OK, buddy, talk to me,” Foggy started, feeling increasingly worried by the blank look on Matt’s face. The fact that Matt kept trying - and failing - to get up wasn’t helping much either. “Why are you here? Are you hurt? Frank shoot you in the head again?” He meant this last one as a joke, but he sincerely hoped that was not actually the case. With Matt, you never knew. 

“Wha? No, no…” Matt seemed to be getting himself together. Or at least Foggy hoped so. He chided at himself briefly, remembering that he kept meaning to take that first aid course in case he should ever come upon an injured Matt again. He made yet another mental note to do so and turned his attention back to Matt. 

“No, you’re not hurt or no Frank didn’t shoot you in the head,” Foggy didn’t wait for an answer; he was busy looking Matt over, trying to find any other obvious injuries. So far, it looked like a gash in one arm and whatever had happened to his head. From the way that Matt was acting, he’d guess that something had rung his bell good and proper. 

“It’s nothing, really” Matt tried to insist, as he also tried and failed to get off the couch again. Foggy was already reaching for his cellphone, intent on calling up Matt’s friend Claire to give him a once over. Thank God he’d gotten her number after the last time they’d met over Matt’s bleeding body.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, Buddy, but I hate to tell you, you look like shit and your credibility is a little shot right now.” Foggy had the phone to his ear, listening to it ring on the other end. Eventually a sleepy Claire answered, and he was able to get the gist of the situation to her - Matt at his place, hurt, confused, possible blow to the head. She promised to be there soon and hung up.

This left Foggy with a slightly irrational and pouty Matt on his hands. He tried to find out what had happened again. 

“OK, Matt, let’s start with how you got here. And why you didn’t bother with the front door. Or a phone call,” Foggy called over his shoulder as he headed for the bathroom and a washcloth he could use to try to clean Matt up at least a little. 

When he got back he found Matt looking confused, as though he didn’t know how he had gotten there. “Matt?” he asked gently, holding the washcloth in front of himself and wondering if he should start cleaning Matt up himself or if he should hand it to Matt and let him do it himself. “Buddy? You know where you are, right?” He asked, trying to fight down a sense of panic.

To his immense relief, Matt answered him after a minute, “Yeah, yeah, your place.” Matt drifted off for a second, then took a breath and seemed to collect himself, “I was fighting off a would-be rapist when I got jumped from behind. Heard him, but didn’t realize how quick he’d be until it was too late. He came down on my head like a ton of bricks. After I fought him off, I was having trouble getting my bearings. Couldn’t… my abilities, I mean, weren’t working like they normally do. But I knew you were nearby, I knew you would help…” Matt trailed off again and Foggy fought off pride and relief that Matt had come to him, and the anxious pit in his stomach that came from the thought of his friend getting jumped combined with how out of it he seemed now. 

Just then there was a knock on the door. “Claire’s here,” Matt mumbled, listing sideways as he attempted to get up once again. “Yep, and I’m going to let her in now,” Foggy said as he pressed Matt back onto the couch. “Just stay still for one minute, OK, Buddy? Don’t move, OK? I’m going to go let her in.” Foggy jumped up and ran across his apartment to the door. He was half terrified that Matt would try to do something dumb the minute he took his eyes off him. 

Claire was thankfully as no-nonsense as ever. Telling Matt to sit down and answer her questions, she got right down to business, stitching his side and checking his head. Foggy felt a huge weight come off his chest knowing that someone else was able to take charge of the situation. He was so busy thinking of all the ways that things could have gone sideways if Claire didn’t come, that he almost missed her diagnosis and instructions for the next 24 hours.

“I’m sorry, what? He has a concussion? Should we take him to the, you know,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “hospital?”

Claire chuckled as Matt barked out, “No hospitals, too dangerous!” at the same time. 

“It’s not that bad, and I think you can monitor him yourself here. That is, if you’re willing,” Claire cocked an eyebrow at him that made Foggy straighten his spine unconsciously. “Yeah, I mean, yes! Yes, I can take it from here. I mean, yeah, and um, what, exactly do you mean by monitor him?”

Claire laughed again, “As I said a minute ago, I don’t think it’s serious, just make sure that he stays awake for the next 24 hours or so. And don’t let him run off and do something stupid like jump from the rooftops or anything.” Behind her, Foggy could hear Matt huffing about the fact that they were discussing him as if he weren’t there. Foggy knew he hated that, so he directed his next words at Matt.

“Hear that, Buddy? It’s a good old fashioned sleepover for us tonight. By which I mean that there will be no actual sleeping. It’ll be fun! Hey! Did I tell you about the time Karen and I stayed out all night?” Foggy would have rambled on for another few minutes but Claire cut him off. 

“Right, Matt, I see you’re in good hands here with your friend. Remember what I said,” here she turned back to Foggy, “Keep him up for the next 24 hours. Keep him off the roof. Headache gets worse, or you start hearing ringing in your ears, Matt, call me. Otherwise, you should be fine in a few days.” Claire packed up her things as she spoke, and slipped out the door as quickly as she had come. 

When she left, it felt to Foggy like she had sucked all the energy out of the room at the same time. Suddenly, he was exhausted. He was exhausted, and he couldn’t possibly go to sleep when he had to stay up and make sure that Matt didn’t fall asleep. Right. What did he just sign up for?

Foggy turned back towards Matt with a huge smile plastered on his face. He knew Matt couldn’t see it, but he was thinking Fake It til You Make It just then, and he figured he could use all the help he could get in coming across and excited and reassuring to Matt. 

Unfortunately, Matt was returning his smile with a frown. A big, mulish frown that clearly said that Matt was very unhappy about the current situation, and that he was likely to do something dumb in the attempt to get himself out of it. Foggy’s smile began to strain his cheeks. Before he could say anything though, Matt stood up.

“Listen, Buddy, I appreciate your helping me out and calling Claire. But I’m feeling more in control now, so I’ll probably just head out. Let you get back to sleep - I can tell you’re tired.” Matt swayed while he spoke, which completely undermined the speech he just gave. 

Foggy sighed, “Yeah. You should know me better than that by now. You’re staying right here tonight, Buddy, and neither of us is getting any sleep. I’m going to go put on some coffee, and I am going to TRUST that when I turn my back you aren’t going out the window.” He hoped to hell that Matt couldn’t hear the way his heart was suddenly hammering in his chest, but Fake It till You Make It he told himself, and went to make the coffee. Extra strength. He had a feeling they were going to need it. 

Three hours later, Foggy wasn’t sure there was enough coffee in this world to get him through this night. He wished he could switch to beer, but given the fact that he’d had to nearly tackle Matt back onto the couch twice, he couldn’t risk the diminished reflexes. Matt was not taking his forced stay at Foggy’s apartment very well. In fact, he was trying very hard not to take it at all. Foggy was exhausted. He had done everything in his power to keep Matt focused and entertained, so he didn’t try to leave. Again. But Matt had only paced and railed at Foggy about how Foggy didn’t KNOW and the city NEEDED HIM and FOGGY WAS IN HIS WAY. Foggy had stayed firm, offered commiseration, bad jokes, worse singing, and every snack in his apartment in his efforts to get Matt to just sit down, shut up, and stay put for the night. 

And now it was 3 in the morning, they were both exhausted, and Foggy was ready to shove Matt out the window himself. The sleep deprivation was really starting to drag them both down now that the adrenaline of the earlier part of the night had worn off. That plus the concussion was starting to make Matt weepy, and it was killing Foggy.

“Foggy, please,” Matt began his latest round of begging to leave, only now his aim seemed to be his own apartment and his bed and not the underground of Hell’s Kitchen. “I’m fine. Really, I just need to get some sleep and I’ll be fine.” Foggy just started shaking his head. 

“Matt, Buddy, we both know you’re in no shape to go anywhere just now,” he began before Matt interrupted him.

“No!,” Matt was dangerously close to tears, and now Foggy was as well. “No, I need to go home! Please, Foggy, I just want to go home…” he trailed off looking miserable, and Foggy took pity on him.

“OK, Matt, I guess we can stay up the rest of the night at your place as well as at mine,” he began, his heart melting at the sudden look of relief on Matt’s face. “But let me be clear, WE are going together, and you won’t be sleeping there any more than you’re sleeping here.” He turned to call a cab, a beaming Matt now bouncing on his toes behind him.

“Sure, Buddy, sure, whatever you say,” Matt reminded Foggy of a puppy just then. Was it the exhaustion? The head injury? Foggy just hoped that Matt wasn’t plotting some daring escape from the cab on the way back to his place. Foggy wasn’t sure he could handle any more excitement that night. 

But Matt seemed content to let Foggy pack a bag, toss some sweats at him to put on over his Daredevil duds, and lead him down to the cab. Foggy wasn’t sure whether to feel suspicious or relieved that this seemed to be going more smoothly than he had hoped. Whatever the case, the fresh air did wonders to revive both of them, and by the time the cab had dropped them off, they were hanging on each other, in hysterics at a memory of the time Karen had showed up at work with a hangover so bad she still had her pajama bottoms on under her skirt. 

The cab driver clearly thought they were completely drunk, and Foggy spent a few minutes trying to convince him otherwise, without much success. He finally settled for just paying for the ride and grabbing Matt by the arm as they stumbled into the building together. It was kind of funny how hysterical everything seemed when you were this tired. It probably didn’t help anything that he’d gone out dancing the night before, and Matt had probably been out doing...whatever it was that Matt did late at night. By all rights they should both be sleeping by now. 

Matt seemed to have gotten a second wind on the way over, and he proposed that the two of them head up to the roof. Foggy was a little suspicious of this, but Matt assured him that he just wanted to feel the fresh air; he had no intention of jumping off. 

They settled down on the roof, and Foggy had to admit that Matt had a point about the fresh air. He felt much less likely to drift off out here than he might have downstairs on Matt’s couch. The two of them managed to pass the next few hours until it was time to head to the office talking a little, but mostly just sitting in silence, comfortable with one another’s company.

The next day was a little tough. Foggy felt like his eyes were full of sand, and he finally had to insist that Matt take his dark glasses off, since he couldn’t be convinced that he wasn’t napping behind them. Neither one wanted to own up to Karen about the night before, so they were both determinedly cheerful around her. By the time the day was over, Foggy felt like his heart was going to burst from all the caffeine in his system. Matt didn’t look much better.

Foggy made a cursory attempt to admonish Matt to not plan on heading out that night, but Matt interrupted him, “Don’t worry, Buddy. Believe me, once my 24 hours are up, I have no plans for anything but sleep.”

Foggy relaxed momentarily, then found himself tensing up again, “How are you doing, by the way? How’s the headache? Any ringing in your ears? I just realized that I was so focused on making sure you stayed awake and that I made it through the day without passing out face down in the copier that I forgot to ask.”

Matt laughed, “I’m fine. Really. A little tired,” he admitted with a grin, “But I’m really OK. Thanks for opening your window last night. I know I didn’t exactly make it easy on you.” Matt rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. 

Foggy laughed, “Matt, I don’t think you’ve ever exactly made things easy for me. But that’s OK, what are friends for?”


End file.
